


Uncovering the Truth

by lary



Series: The Truth [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, First Time, Humor, M/M, Veritaserum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 04:37:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lary/pseuds/lary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has a plan to finally discover what Malfoy is up to. There are complications.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncovering the Truth

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own them.

 

 

_Fourty-six, fourty-seven, fourty-eight..._

 

Damn! Despite the Prince's help, the potion was turning out to be the most difficult overtaking during Harry's academic career so far.

 

Not that what he was doing was, strictly speaking, part of his Hogwarts curriculum.

 

_Fourty-nine, fifty._

 

Harry quickly set down the stirring rod, added two drops of dragon blood, and watched as it dissipated making the potion glow a darker shade of lilac. It was difficult to believe that with just a few more phases, the finished potion would be colourless. He held his breath as he performed the stasis charm, and then exhaled shakily.

 

Maybe he should've asked Hermione for help, but he was pretty sure she wouldn't approve of his plan. Plus, she'd threatened to hex him the next time she heard him mentioning Malfoy. Harry rolled his eyes. The way she'd lectured him, it was more than a little hypocritical of her to be calling _him_ obsessed.

 

He consulted the book again, noting that the potion needed to be under stasis for no more than six hours. _Thank God_ , he thought, throwing the book in his backpack and scrambling hastily on his feet, throwing the invisibility cloak on. He'd get a good night's sleep for a change.

 

Harry didn't bother to put away any of the ingredients, as nobody else would be able to access the brewing station he'd asked from the Room of Requirement. _Maybe I should get a bed in here_ , he thought, but then dismissed the idea. Ron would probably cover for him, but Neville, Seamus and Dean would get suspicious. Besides, he was nearly finished now anyway.

 

He dashed through the hallways towards Gryffindor tower and snuck past his sleeping dormmates, falling on the bed in his robes, only fighting the exhaustion long enough to cast the charm to wake him up at half five. Fortunately, he'd had time to prepare the ingredients for the next phase of the potion, so he'd be able to sleep uninterrupted for most of the night. He smirked.

 

_Malfoy, your secrets are as good as mine._

 

 

**

 

 

He'd finally finished the potion as per the Prince's instructions. He grinned when he thought of what Snape would say if he knew Harry'd managed to brew Veritaserum. The expression would almost be worth it. Almost, because the Slytherin Head of House was less likely to be impressed with the planned use for the potion.

 

Harry rubbed his forehead, reading once more the complex notes at the bottom of the page regarding the modifications the Prince had made.

 

_Adding hellebore only after the final stage of stirring will result in a potion tailored for an ambitious and guarded mind. Whilst answering questions under Veritaserum is unavoidable, a practiced Occlumens will still be able to produce a subterfuge out of half-truths and interpretations, unless questioned by a highly proficient interrogator._

 

 _However, the modified version of Veritaserum will not rely on inquisition of a subdued mind. Instead of eliminating resistance to prodding, the potion will stimulate the subject into providing uninhibited information of the topic allocated by the_ Iudicia Charm _, which must be cast within one minute of administering the potion._

 

 _Iudicia_ was a spell the Prince had adapted for the purposes of his potion. There was nothing complicated in it, and Harry had practised the wand motion studiously. Originally, it was meant for wizards and witches wishing to collaborate on a research topic, allowing them to have a shared focus and concentration. Combined with the potion, the result would be a spontaneous flow of information on whatever the caster was most wishing to find out about.

 

All Harry really had to do was to:

1\. Get Malfoy alone and stun him

2\. Drag and/or levitate him to somewhere private (ideally, Room of Requirement, but Harry was resigned to the fact that the location would depend on where he could get to the git)

3\. Give him 3 drops of the potion

4\. Use the spell (which would pick up on the fact that Harry needed to know what Malfoy was doing for Voldemort)

5\. Wait for the blond to wake up and start talking

 

Harry smiled to himself, dropping the vial of modified Veritaserum into his pocket. It was simple, really. What could possibly go wrong?

 

 

**

 

 

He'd expected for it to be a hassle, but Harry was still surprised at how difficult it was to get Malfoy alone. Whenever he checked the map, the Slytherin was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, or else holed up in the dungeons.

 

He'd be damned if he got stumped at the first stage, though, especially after working hard on the potion. In the end he resigned himself to asking help from Ron, whose reaction was no better than Harry had expected.

 

“Hmm? What about the pointy git this time? That's the third time today, Harry, I'm starting to think 'Mione's right, you're a bit obsessed.”

 

“I'm not obsessed!” Harry exclaimed. “You know he's up to something! You know what I heard on the train here! You don't have to agree with Hermione about everything just because you're together now, you know.”

 

“Alright, calm down, mate,” Ron said hastily, “it's just that you've been trying for weeks, sneaking out under your cloak at all times, and haven't succeeded. I'm not sure what more we can do.”

 

“Well, I'm not bloody well giving up! This is important, Ron!”

 

“Yeah, I know, alright?” Ron said, glancing over his shoulder towards the girl's staircase. “Of course I'll help you, just, let's talk a bit later, okay? You know how she gets.”

 

“Yeah, I know. Just, be ready. I've got a plan, all I need is to check the map, and when he's out and about, you'll need to distract the cronies.”

 

“Got it.”

 

 

**

 

 

Ron used the Slytherin-Rawenclaw match to take care of the minions while Malfoy was in the air by making sure they heard a rumour about an entrance to the kitchens that would only be accessible for the next 45 minutes. In truth, tickling the pear would always work to open the entrance, but the two idiots weren't likely to pass on what they thought to be a unique opportunity.

 

Luckily for Harry, Malfoy took his time with primping after the match, and most of the Slytherin team had cleared out by the time he emerged from the locker rooms. He seemed puzzled by the absence of his lackeys, but continued towards the castle while cursing under his breath.

 

The next part was ridiculously easy. Harry sent the stunner from under his invisibility cloak, and levitated Malfoy hastily to the broomshed while he was unconscious. He'd cleared out space in advance, and now it was just the matter of angling Malfoy onto the chair and drugging him. Malfoy's body was pliant, a bit too relaxed, really, but Harry managed to get him on the chair, his head hanging back, and pouring the three drops on his tongue past the slightly-parted lips was no trouble at all.

 

Harry took a breath of relief. The hard part was over. He pointed his wand at Malfoy, and uttered, in a clear voice, the spell that would bind his focus onto the topic most prominently on Harry's mind.

 

“Iudicia!”

 

The spell glowed blue for a moment, before disappearing, and it was only a few minutes afterwards that Malfoy came to.

 

Harry had once seen somebody being interrogated with Veritaserum, and he was startled at the differences between the original and the modified versions. Instead of the dull expression he was expecting, Malfoy looked nearly the same as always, and he wouldn't have been able to tell the boy was drugged if it wasn't for the slight flush that tinged the pale cheeks and the disoriented way he was looking around before landing his gaze on Harry and staring at him intensely.

 

Satisfied, Harry observed the effect, and when Malfoy didn't immediately start talking, he prompted a little. “Alright, let's hear it. What are you up to?”

 

“Why? Did you have something special in mind, Potter?” Malfoy asked with a strange half-smile, starting to get up. Harry quickly reached for his wand, casting an _Incarcerous_ and tying Malfoy securely to the chair. He'd forgotten about the Prince's recommendation of restraints, which stated that under the combined influence of the potion and the spell the subject would have little impulse control. Malfoy looked at the ropes appraisingly. “Hmm, kinky. If only I'd known before. Just think how much fun we could've had.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Just sit still and tell me what it is that you're trying to do,” he demanded.

 

“I really love it when you're forceful like that, Potter. Your eyes get all resolute and strong. You do have the most amazing eyes. Nobody really has that kind of green, it sould be illegal. And the way you radiate determination, it's so enticing.”

 

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock. Malfoy was going on about Harry's looks... and he was being sincere. What the hell was that all about?

 

Malfoy continued with a slightly dreamy look, seemingly oblivious to Harry's bemusement. “It makes me think that you'll really be the Saviour like everybody expects you to. I'm maybe selfish when I wish that it wasn't for them, though, that it was really me you were trying to save. I know there's really no reason for you to, since you hate me, and Salazar knows I haven't given you any reason to care about what happens to me, but you've never liked me when that's been all I've wanted ever since I first met you. But I still cling to hope that you'd want to save me, even if it is just because that's what you do, that's who you are. And as much as I wish it was just for me, I love that about you.”

 

Harry stared at Malfoy, who had such a foreign expression on his face, something like adoration. “You-you--” he stammered, wondering if the potion had actually worked as it was supposed to. Snape might have it right about his abilities, after all. “You, er, _love_ that about me?” he asked incredulously.

 

“Yes, I can't help it, though it's completely unnatural that somebody can be that bloody noble all the time. I remember thinking it's sickening but it's not, it's just how you are, and I really wish I could hate you for being so damn perfect all the time, I just can't. And I really understand why you wouldn't want to give me the time of day, 'cause I'm not at all like that, not that I'm evil like you seem to think but it's not like I can just broadcast all I feel to the entire world. But since you don't really know me, all I've really got going for me are my looks. You do like how I look, though, don't you?”

 

Harry had felt his cheeks warming through Malfoy's tirade, wishing for him to just stop already, at a complete loss at whether to be mortified or strangely pleased when faced with the unexpected compliments. From Malfoy, no less. However, the sudden question and the expectant pause left Harry feeling flustered. God, what was he supposed to say? Of course Malfoy looked good, anybody with eyes could see as much, but Malfoy's question sounded like he was insinuating that Harry _liked_ how he looked, like he was attracted to him or something. Which was obviously ridiculous. It wasn't like he'd spent any inordinate amount of time noticing the blond's appearance. Just because he'd happened to glance at the delicate hands occasionally during potions or had happened to notice the way he looked on a broom, it didn't _mean_ anything.

 

Harry blushed when he realised that Malfoy was still staring at him with a knowing smirk, his eyes glinting in a way that was almost... flirtatious. “Why would you think that?” he asked a little defensively.

 

“Aww, Harry, you're really not the most subtle person. Don't worry, it's adorable, really.”

 

Harry groaned, hiding his embarrassingly heated face in his hands. And how was it that Malfoy was the one dosed by the potion, and still he managed to make _Harry_ feel this mortified?

 

 _Shit, the potion!_ Casting a quick _tempus_ showed that they'd already been at it for nearly an hour, and Harry had still made no process with finding out what Malfoy was up to! At this rate, he'd really suck as an Auror. “Get a grip, Harry,” he muttered to himself.

 

Unfortunately for Harry's state of mortification and arousal both, Malfoy heard him, and with his eyes locked on Harry's crotch uttered, “Yes, please do.” When Harry's sole response was an alarmed squeal, he continued in the same vein, without relinquishing Harry's much too enthusiastic prick from his heated gaze. “Yes, Harry, I'd really like to see that. You, sitting there, flushed like that, with your trousers open and your dick in your hand, stroking, slowly at first. I'd tell you to speed up in a little while, I'd want to make it last, but I'd be too tempted to see you come. Merlin's balls, you must look even more amazing when you're coming, your chest heaving and your head thrown back in pleasure.”

 

By this point, all thought of Voldemort's evil plans had once again escaped Harry's head, and all his willpower was going into fighting the urge to adjust himself. Jesus, he was not going to touch himself in front of Malfoy, no matter how uncomfortable his jeans were suddenly feeling! Harry's eyes strayed to follow the way Malfoy licked his lips, a fact that was luckily unnoticed by Malfoy who was seemingly still fixated on lower parts of Harry's anatomy.

 

“It would be torture, to be tied up like this, to be forced to just watch you touch yourself, and to watch your spunk splatter on your shirt, not being able to lick it off, to taste you, to suck it all in my mouth and then feed it to you with my tongue--”

 

Harry lost the battle with himself, pressing his palm firmly on his aching erection. “Fuck,” he groaned.

 

Malfoy's eyes lit up, snapping back to his face. “Really?”

 

“Wh-what?” Harry's eyes widened when Malfoy made to get up from the chair and he realised what he'd said. “No, wow, no way!” he exclaimed, all the more thankful of the ropes that tied the other boy down.

 

“I'm sure you'd enjoy it,” Malfoy said in a tone that was much too seductive for Harry to retain the ability to think straight. “I'd make it good for you, Harry, touch you all over until you'd be writhing from the pleasure, almost begging for me to make you come. I've thought about it so many times when I'm wanking, you know, pictured that it's your cock in me when I push my fingers in my arse. I've thought about how you'd look at me, desperate from desire, kind of like you're looking at me now--”

 

Harry made a strangled noise. Desperate was definitely what he was feeling, desperate for his stupid prick to get the clue that this was _Malfoy_ and the fact that he was producing the filthiest mental images and parading them in front of Harry's libido didn't mean he wasn't still a major-scale prat. Unfortunately, the reminder didn't seem to have the least bit of effect on his hard-on, especially since Malfoy was still talking.

 

“I'd pinch my nipples, they're really sensitive you know, and I'd ride your cock, Harry, taking it in until you're so filled with lust that you just grasp my hips and pound in me so hard. I'd love to make you lose control, make you shoot your load in my arse, so fucking hard that you'd feel like you've died and went to heaven and you'd be--”

 

The rest of Malfoy's sentence was cut off by the sound of blood rushing in his ears as Harry came, violently, with his hand pressed on his prick and with Malfoy's hungry eyes drinking in the sight. Harry's hips were jerking uncontrollably before he slumped back in his chair, wishing for the ground to open up and swallow him whole and, worst of all, still not quite remembering why fucking Draco Malfoy would be a bad thing because, despite the what-should-now-definitely-be-sated state of his prick, it still sounded like the best idea ever to have been uttered in either muggle or wizarding history.

 

“You look so good like that, all dishevelled and contented. I'd really love to watch you sometime without your clothes on,” Malfoy was saying, and Harry groaned painfully, causing Malfoy's voice to become slightly disconcerted. “Are you all right? Harry? Oh, Merlin, that sounds beautiful, I don't know how I never realised before, Harry, Harry, Harr--”

 

“God, Malfoy, stop repeating my name!” Harry exclaimed, forcing himself to look at the blond, who smiled at him warmly.

 

“But I just love how it sounds, Harry. I never tried, it rolls so softly on my tongue. Harry. Har--”

 

“Oh, God, just... be quiet, Malfoy, please,” Harry begged, realising the futility even as he did. Malfoy couldn't be quiet, could he. Except that the three hours must be up soon, and not only was Harry no wiser on the Dark Lord front, he was certain to be hexed to within an inch of his life when Malfoy came back to his senses. And managed to free himself from the chair, because there was no way Harry could untie the no-doubt-soon-to-be-murderous wizard himself.

 

“I didn't mean to upset you. You know, I very rarely really wish to see you hurt, though I do realise I cause it much too often, it's just--”

 

“Please, Malfoy, don't, just don't, okay. It's okay, I'm not upset.” _Just terrified and stupid and embarrassed still bloody horny._ “It's enough, you shouldn't say anything more. I know the potion is prompting you to speak, that's why I keep going on now, I really don't want you to tell me anything else, seriously.” _You're going to kill me as it is._ “Just so you know, I really just was looking to find out what you were up to, I didn't mean any of... er, this to happen...” Harry stammered, staring resolutely at the wall behind Malfoy and waving a hand between them, flustered.

 

“You don't regret it, do you? Harry?”

 

“I...um, I--” he stammered, startled by the alarmed expression on Malfoy's face. “Oh, sod it... No, okay, I don't regret it,” he admitted. “Despite the fact that now there will be nobody to slay Voldemort, since I will either die by your hand or out of sheer humiliation, I don't regret it. That was the best orgasm of my life, with you... you know, there and... fuck. I so totally did not need to tell you that.” Harry groaned, laying his head to his knees. “Well, at least you'll have something to lord over me so that maybe just maybe you'll consider making my death quick and painless. The Chosen One is apparently gay as a yellow duster. The Daily Prophet should have a field day, don't you think? Malfoy?”

 

“...Malfoy?”

 

“Potter,” came the clipped reply from across him. Harry raised his head warily, only to be met by the sight of a pale-faced wizard whose lips were pressed in an angry line.

 

“So...uh, I guess you're back to normal then,” Harry said, feeling suddenly very happy about having his wand in his hand (and thankful that it was just the literal one by this point and by God, he did not just think that). For a moment he wondered if he needed a _Protego_ against Malfoy's murderous stare.

 

“Yes, Potter, and well done stating the obvious,” said Malfoy. “Now untie me immediately, you complete and utter bastard.”

 

“What will you do if I set you free?” Harry asked. He didn't really have the stones to pretend not to be terrified.

 

“Oh, you should have thought of that before you did this, don't you think?”

 

“I guess,” Harry conceded, and then rose from his chair to release Malfoy from the ropes, avoiding eye contact. The other wizard got up as soon as he was free, and Harry took a hasty step back.

 

“Now,” Malfoy stated, “unless you want me to send the memory of you coming in your pants directly to Rita Skeeter, you'll sit down right there and be quiet. I'll deal with you after I've found out what, exactly, you did to me. I assume it was a spell or potion of some kind?”

 

“Both, actually,” Harry admitted, sitting meekly into the chair. “Page 385,” he said, handing Malfoy his copy of Advanced Potion Making.

 

Malfoy's eyes widened as he took in the writing in the margins. “How did you get this book? Do you know whose it is?”

 

“No. Why?” Harry frowned. “I mean, it says Half-Blood Prince on the back of the cover, but I don't know who that is, I got it from Slughorn at the start of term.”

 

And then Malfoy did the most surprising thing so far, which, frankly, was saying something. He started to laugh. An uninhibited laughter unlike any Harry had heard from him. Harry stared, mesmerised, at the other boy's face as he gasped for breath.

 

“You know who he is?” Harry demanded. “The Prince?”

 

“Merlin-- Potter, you really are an idiot,” Malfoy gasped out, bursting into another fit of giggles at Harry's confused expression. “Ah, well,” he finally said. “I'm sure he'd be amused. Or horrified. Hard to say.”

 

“It's not some Death Eater,” Harry stated, with a feeling of foreboding that wasn't assuaged in the least by Malfoy's wink.

 

“At least this explains your sudden potions talents. I'll have to think about whether to turn you in to my Head of House for punishment,” Malfoy smirked. “That is, after I'm done with you, and I don't think that will be anytime soon.”

 

Harry gulped, gratified by the knowledge that Malfoy wasn't aware of the Veritaserum bottle still in his pocket.

 

“Tell me about the spell. I've not come across _Iudicia_ before, and I'd like to know what it was you used on me.”

 

“It's nothing bad,” Harry said hastily. “Just a charm designed to help in research.”

 

“Hmm. Forgive me if I don't take your word for it,” Malfoy said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

 

“No, really! You can see for yourself, here--” Harry rummaged his bag and handed Malfoy the parchment on which he'd copied the spell from a library book. He watched warily as Malfoy read the information, his expression morphing slightly. Harry found himself wishing Malfoy was still under the effects of the potion, as he was finding it much more difficult to read the elegant features now.

 

“Well. Isn't that interesting,” he finally said, turning to look at Harry with a smile that was definitely unnerving. Predatory.

 

Harry was so screwed.

 

“What is?” he asked guardedly.

 

“Just the focus your brain supplied for us.”

 

“Yeah, about that... I... I really did only want to find out what you were doing for Voldemort, I don't know if the spell worked properly.”

 

“Oh, I'm sure it did. Even you couldn't botch up a simple charm like that,” Malfoy smirked. “No, I do believe you're sincere, or rather, I do believe that you really did think that was what you wanted to most find out about. It is interesting, therefore, that what the spell picked up was your desire to know how I _feel_ about you and what dirty things I'd like to use you for. Intriguing, don't you think? I wonder _why_ that would be what you most want to know, hmm?”

 

Harry felt himself flushing as Malfoy made his way towards him, towering over the chair he was sitting on. “I... it's not... I mean, I didn't--”

 

“I'm sure,” stated Malfoy, his lips twisted in a knowing smile. “Now then, there's really only one question I have for you. And if you try to lie, I'll know, potion or no potion.”

 

“What?” Harry asked, staring up into Malfoy's eyes, fairly sure that he really didn't want to know. He was right.

 

“Would you like to suck my cock?”

 

Harry's brain blanked completely. And then it happily supplied an enthusiastic answer that made Harry's eyes travel downwards to Malfoy's crotch, which was conveniently located right in front of him. “Um, I... yeah.”

 

“Yes,” Malfoy practically purred. “That's what I thought. Well, don't let me keep you.”

 

 _Fuck. How the hell did I end up here?_ Harry thought as fumbled with shaky hands to undo Malfoy's trousers. He felt his face burning as his knuckles brushed on Malfoy's cock and _oh fuck_ he was touching _Malfoy's cock_ , and if that wasn't a surreal thought, he didn't know what was, except maybe the fact that he was only too eager to get to see it. If only Malfoy's clothes weren't putting up such a fight.

 

“If you'd get over the blushing virgin act sometime soon, I'd really prefer it, you know. Unless--” his fingers grasped Harry's jaw and his eyes locked on Harry's. “By Merlin, the Boy Who Lived is still pure as the snow in the Forbidden Forest. How delightful.”

 

The words were mocking, but his tone belied the effect, sounding more honest than sarcastic. Harry smiled and took a hold of Malfoy's wrist, kissing the tips of his fingers and enjoying the startled breath the other boy drew in response. He let his gaze linger on Malfoy's face for a little while longer before turning back to the task at hand, lowering Malfoy's trousers and pants and finally freeing his prick from the confines of the fabric. He licked an experimental trail on the hard length, which raised a groan out of Malfoy.

 

He'd never before known that the organ in question could be referred to as such, but Malfoy's cock was gorgeous. Harry was suddenly grasped by this uncontrollable urge to taste it all over, to feel the flesh twitch under his tongue and react to his touch.

 

 _Nothing to it_ , Harry thought and jumped in with all his Gryffindor courage, licking and sucking Malfoy in his mouth with enthusiasm paralleled only by what he felt flying at the quidditch pitch. Against Malfoy. _Hmm, figures, that_ , he thought, but didn't linger on it, preferring to concentrate on the near-addictive sounds Malfoy was making and the way his prick was swelling in Harry's mouth.

 

And then Malfoy was coming, fingers sinking into Harry's hair, and while it was a little startling, he figured he really shouldn't be all that surprised that Malfoy hadn't warned him because, well, it was Malfoy. Not that he could really pretend to have much to complain, for Malfoy's hands had felt unbelievably good in his hair when he was thrusting his hips and emptying himself in Harry's mouth, and the now-gentle-touch felt even better. _Malfoy is practically petting me_ , Harry thought with more than a little disbelief, and, for whatever reason, an equal amount of satisfaction. Harry hummed happily, with Malfoy's soft prick still in his mouth and feeling generally content with the situation.

 

Finally Malfoy pulled out and fell ungraciously into the chair opposite Harry. “Oh, fuck.”

 

A chuckle escaped Harry before he could stop it, and he slapped a hand over his mouth. Malfoy's eyes snapped on his face. “What's so funny, Potter?” he asked, his mouth curving into a familiar sneer.

 

“Crap! Wait-- Malfoy, I'm not laughing at you,” Harry hastened to clarify. It seemed important to correct that assumption, but Malfoy looked anything but convinced as he got up, starting to fix his clothes with an unreadable expression. “Draco, please. I just... If I'd had the potion just now, my reaction would've been much like yours earlier,” Harry said. When Malfoy raised a questioning eyebrow, Harry added, “you know – an extremely hopeful 'really?'”

 

Malfoy stared at him for a moment longer before one side of his mouth twitched, as if fighting back a smile. Harry let the relief he felt show on his own face as he got up. Malfoy eyed him warily, but didn't hex him when Harry advanced with careful steps. He stopped in front of the other boy, not entirely sure of what the hell he was doing, but wanting to do it anyway.

 

Malfoy stood as if frozen on the spot as Harry pressed his lips gently against his, giving just a tiniest lick to Malfoy's bottom lip before pulling back. He smiled slowly and then kissed Malfoy again, undeterred by the lack of response, and he felt something akin to joy when Draco finally yielded, responding to the kiss tentatively. It went on, building up heat slowly as Draco's lips moved against his and his tongue curled in Harry's mouth, sliding against his until Harry was forced to break off for air. There was a wild look in Malfoy's eyes, like he was struggling with the same kind of almost intolerable intensity that was making Harry's chest feel tight, and he was captivated by the smouldering silver of his eyes.

 

At some point, Harry's hands had relocated themselves behind Malfoy's back, and Harry was just about to use that to his advantage and pull the other boy in for more snogging, when a banging noise made them spring apart as if burnt.

 

“Harry, you in there?”

 

“Oh, shit!”

 

“Is that the Weasel?” Malfoy asked, restoring his impeccable look with a careless flick of his wand.

 

“How the hell did you do that?” Harry hissed, attempting uselessly to straighten himself out. “A little help, please?” he asked, not above begging at this point. Another crash sounded at the door.

 

Malfoy twirled his wand lazily. “You might want to start wearing robes, Potter,” he smirked, with a pointed look at Harry's crotch. Harry blushed as he took in the very-much-conspicuous wet stain on his jeans.

 

At that moment, Ron banged in. “Harry, mate, are you all right? What did the git do to you?” He looked ready to hex Malfoy just in case.

 

Malfoy inspected his nails, seemingly unconcerned. “I did absolutely nothing to Potter. He managed well enough by himself,” he drawled. Harry was startled by the amusement he saw in Malfoy's eyes, and he had to fight back a grin.

 

“I'm fine, Ron, really.”

 

“You sure?” Ron asked, while staring at Malfoy suspiciously.

 

“Yeah, really,” Harry replied, willing for some higher power to come and resolve the situation. No higher power came, but a decidedly unwelcome voice did.

 

“Harry?”

 

“You brought Hermione?” Harry demanded incredulously.

 

Ron looked abashed. “You know how she gets,” he shrugged.

 

Harry felt his cheeks heat as Hermione took in his dishevelled look and her eyebrows rose alarmingly. “Wha--”

 

Malfoy's voice cut her off. “As touching as this Gryffindor reunion has been, I'm expected elsewhere,” he stated. Harry's eyes widened in shock when, instead of starting towards the door, Malfoy stepped closer and kissed him full on the mouth. A part of his brain was demanding he check whether Ron had dropped dead from the shock, but it seemed it was overruled by the part that deemed it necessary to stop Malfoy's tongue from escaping his mouth. It did succeed, though, after a bit, and Malfoy stepped back from him, smirking at his dazed expression. “See you later, _Harry_. Granger. Weasel.”

 

“So. Mate,” Ron stammered into the awkward silence, minutes after Malfoy had left. “I don't reckon that was a part of your plan?”

 

“Not exactly,” Harry admitted. He glanced at Hermione, who was looking much too self-satisfied. “What?”

 

“Well, it just seems I had the right idea about the obsession bit,” she stated. Harry shrugged, smiling a little sheepishly, and she grinned. “At least we know what he'll be 'up to' from now on.”

 

“'Mione!” Ron exclaimed. “Bloody hell, I did not need that mental image.”

 

Harry smiled to himself, thinking that he really didn't mind the mental image in the least.

 

 


End file.
